


Brothers

by penguingal, Schnaucl (Onetrackmind)



Series: Three Part Harmony [1]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Episode s01e02 Uncertainty Principle, Incest, M/M, comment porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-08
Updated: 2005-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguingal/pseuds/penguingal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onetrackmind/pseuds/Schnaucl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Uncertainty Principle Charlie can no longer hide how he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers

Charlie stood in Don's living room, arms crossed, jaw set and tilted slightly upward. "That's not how it happened," he said through tightly clenched teeth. And Don damn well knew it, too.   
  
Don couldn't help rolling his eyes, exasperated. Now, of all times, now Charlie was going to be stubborn about this. He really didn't have time to have this argument.   
  
"It's not important how it happened, it happened. Can we drop it now, please?"   
  
Sometimes it was hard to believe they were from the same family. Of course _how_ was important, how was _always_ important. If you didn't understand the how or the why you couldn't prevent the same thing from happening again.   
  
"Of _course_ it's important how it happened!"   
  
"Okay, Charlie," Don started, resigned to having this conversation. He'd come to learn all too quickly that when his little brother was determined to be defiant, there was little, not even mathematics, that could move him. He sat on the edge of the chair, hoping that it would diffuse some of the tension in the room. "Why don't you tell me how you see it, then?"  
  
Charlie clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure. He didn't want Don's calm, reasonable (patronizing) voice. He wanted to stay angry, wanted to keep fighting because it was easier than doing anything else.   
  
"You could have been killed. Do you even--" he turned away, barely resisting the urge to slam his fist into the wall.   
  
"Do I even, what, Charlie? You think I don't get how dangerous my job is? But it's the risk I take so that other people don't get hurt."   
  
It seemed like they'd been talking around this topic for ages and it always came back to Don getting hurt. Being an FBI agent was dangerous work, but he'd known that when he took the entrance exam. Mostly, Mom and Dad at least had found a way to cope with his job, but he supposed it had never been quite real to Charlie until that day. And deep down, Don was starting to wonder if there wasn't something more to it than what Charlie was letting on.   
  
"Right." Because what else was there to say? Don would come home with bruises, scrapes, bandages from being _shot_ and he and Dad were supposed to treat it as lightly as Don seemed to, because, hey, he was alive, right? So why bother to think about the might-have-beens. To think about the time when Don _wouldn't_ be home to just brush it off, when instead there was a call from the director, and a body bag and an American flag.   
  
They were supposed to pretend they didn't know when Don was lying, downplaying events to make it seem like no big deal except you didn't get injuries like his from something that wasn't a big deal. They were supposed to pretend that when they found out about things long after the fact they didn't worry about what _else_ Don wasn't telling them.   
  
They were just supposed to accept and be as stoic as Don was because anything else was an overreaction.   
  
"Fine. You do what you have to do and I'll do what I have to do."   
  
Don sighed. No matter what he did, he was always going to end up on the losing side of this battle.   
  
"What do you want me to do, Charlie?" he asked, standing and crossing to where he stood, his back still to him. "Give up a job I love, become less of who I am, because it's easier for you to deal with? And what about you? You spend days wrapped up in your equations, you forget to eat, we don't see you... you think that isn't hard for us to watch? Me giving up my job would be like you giving up math."   
  
Okay, he conceded to himself, that was probably a little unfair. After all, few people ever got killed over math, but dammit, he had to make Charlie SEE. He needed this.   
  
"No that's not--that's not what I want." He turned around again, surprised at how close Don was standing. He unclenched his fists with an effort so that he could recross his arms, less angry but more vulnerable now. "I know how important your job is to you, Don. I know how much it means to you and I don't want you to give that up. I don't--fuck, I don't know what I want."   
  
Well, at least he'd gotten Charlie to admit that much. It was a start. He placed his hands lightly on the thin shoulders, always surprised at how solid Charlie's frame was under those t-shirts and hoodies.   
  
"C'mon, buddy, what's this really about? Because we keep coming back to this same subject..." Don trailed off, not really sure of what else to say.   
  
Charlie jerked away, angry all over again. "What is this _about_? It's about you getting hurt and acting like Dad and I are completely overreacting because we actually give a damn!"   
  
It's about the fact that I have nightmares about you not coming home. It's about the fact that sometimes I feel like I can't fucking breathe when I've sent you into harm's way and I can't do a damn thing but wait. It's about knowing that if I _didn't_ send you into harm's way, someone else would, and maybe their analysis wouldn't be as good and you'd be in even more danger. It's about the fact that I have these dreams and they aren't nightmares, but dammit, they should be because you're my goddamn _brother_! But he couldn't say any of that and Don's hands on his shoulders had felt like branding irons even through his shirt and coming to Don's apartment had been a really, really bad idea.   
  
"Well, fuck Charlie. What else am I supposed to do?" Don fought to keep his own anger from rising. "If I can't quit and you can't cope then it would appear we're at an impasse and we can keep arguing this thing around in circles until the Universe ends and we'd still be right. fucking. here. So, you tell me, what the hell are we supposed to do?" Apparently, Don had to work on that whole anger thing. He felt Charlie tense under his hands and he let them drop.   
  
He sank back into the chair and when he looked up he could see Charlie trembling.   
  
"I don't know," he said softly, miserably. "I don't--" he never knew the answers for this kind of thing. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come over. I should go. You have that--thing to get to and I have papers to grade--" a flat out lie, he'd finished grading papers hours ago "and I should go. I shouldn't have come over. So I'll just--I'll go." Not looking at Don because he couldn't. He'd gone from furious to barely able to hold himself together and he hated it. He hated this feeling, this stupid fucking helpless feeling.   
  
He started to move past Don, into the kitchen. He could retrieve his bookbag and he could hide until the next time Don needed him to put him in harm's way.   
  
Don reached out and grabbed Charlie's wrist as he went past. "Not this time, Charlie. You don't get to run away and hide in the garage so you can throw this back in my face over and over again. We are going to stay here and settle this once and for all. I'm sure that between us we can come up with something, but I need you to TALK to me instead of running away." He was standing now, still holding Charlie's wrist. He could feel his pulse racing and he didn't know if it was anger or nervousness that made him look like a deer about to bolt into the forest. But one of them had to do something or whatever it was would just tear them apart.   
  
"We've just started to really be able to understand each other, Charlie. I don't want to lose that..."   
  
He didn't even try to break Don's hold. Every time Don touched him now was like an electric shock through his whole body, fodder for dreams he had at night, the dreams he shouldn't be having.   
  
"I don't want to lose this either, Don," he said, still not looking at him. "Don't want to lose you again. But I don't know how to make this right. Please understand--Dad and I--we aren't asking you to give up what you do, we aren't asking you to change who you are. But it's not fair to ask us to pretend like it doesn't scare us when you're hurt. I wish I didn't know about the other probabilities, the statistical liklihood of something worse happening, but I _do_ know, and I can't _unknow_ it just because I want to. And I know that you probably can't focus on that and do what you do, I understand that. But--I can't not think about it either. You're my _brother_ Don, and--and maybe now my friend and I can't pretend that I don't think about what it would be like to be without those things again."   
  
"You know that I only do it because I'm trying to protect you both," Don said. "The reality is that I'm going to get hurt sometimes and I know that scares you... It scares me, too... but you're right, I can't think about that and do my job. So. I'll - I'll try to acknowledge your feelings more, but you gotta try and trust me. I'm very good at my job and I have a team of people who are very good at their jobs--you included--watching my back. The way I get through is to surround myself with good people so I know, if something happens to me, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop it. Okay?"   
  
Don absently stroked the inside of Charlie's wrist as he talked, feeling the pulse beat faster and faster. When Charlie finally nodded, he pulled him into a hug, glad that at last they could at least try to put this to rest. He pulled back, a smile on his lips, but when he looked into Charlie's eyes he saw something that shouldn't have been there, something...   
  
He didn't realize what he was doing until moments after he'd started, when the warning bells screamed in his head.   
  
"Charlie...," he murmured before pulling him close and kissing him.   
  
Charlie's mind went into shock but fortunately his body seemed to know what to do without any input from him. His arms tightened around Don, his lips parted.   
  
Schroedinger's Cat. If all things were possible, then in some reality, Don had the same feelings for him as he has for his brother. However impossible it might seem. The question was, which reality was this?   
  
He felt as though he were balanced on a razor's edge. Don could still claim it was a mistake, could push him away if he revealed how he felt. Could decide even if they felt the same way it didn't matter because it was wrong. But maybe, oh God, maybe...   
  
He put everything he could into the kiss, all his love and passion, his fear and vulnerability, his tenderness and his fragile, precious hope.   
  
Don felt Charlie's lips part under his and the understanding that Charlie wanted this, that somehow _he WANTED_ this, finally filtered to his brain. His panic response kicked in, threatening to overwhelm him, but their tongues brushed tentatively and Don would swear he felt his brain short circuit, pulled between knowing this was Wrong and wanting, demanding, the pleasure it was receiving.   
  
Gently, reluctantly if he was being honest, he broke the kiss, stepping back so he could see his brother's-- _Christ, his BROTHER'S_ \--face. His legs wanted to carry him further, to put the room, and possibly the door, between them but he forced himself to stay still. Eyes wide, he held Charlie's gaze.   
  
"Oh God," Don whispered, "what am I doing?"   
  
Charlie caught Don's wrist and held it as tightly as he could. He didn't have any illusions about being able to keep Don here, not if his brother really wanted to get away. But he couldn't bear to lose all physical connection, and maybe a sign that he wanted Don to stay would be enough.   
  
Charlie swallowed rapidly, studying Don's eyes, pupils blown wide with passion. He didn't have an answer, not for this. He considered and rejected a dozen different responses, and while all were honest, all sounded trite. So he didn't say anything, just took a small step forward, holding Don's gaze, ready to stop if Don said the word.   
  
Deep brown eyes loomed in his vision and Don could see in them years of longing and need that had been carefully hidden away now coming to the surface. He'd had no clue. No idea until he'd seen the naked want in those eyes. Charlie's hand on his wrist sent shivers down his spine. This was nuts. He should step away, break this odd connection that was happening, take a deep breath, and get Charlie to leave. If Charlie left he could think straight, could sort all this out. He should stop this now before it got out of hand. He should get a hold of himself. He should...   
  
Charlie's eyes still searched his face. He was standing so close, each breath brought an intoxicating scent of chalk and ink, the fruity-smelling shampoo that Charlie insisted on using, and something richer and spicier under it all. Don tried to slow his breathing, to clear his head, but he drowned in that scent instead. Finally, he stopped struggling and bent his head to Charlie's mouth once again.   
  
The relief when Don's lips touched his again was almost enough to send him to his knees. He still didn't know how far Don was willing to go, didn't trust yet that Don wouldn't suddenly shove him away and tell him to get out because dammit, this was _wrong_ and Don didn't do wrong.   
  
Charlie claimed Don's mouth with all his inexpert skill, his passion and his need and God, his want. His free hand came to rest on the back of Don's neck, keeping him in place for as long as his brother would allow it.   
  
Don's instincts overrided all the protests his brain could conjure, his fingers pulling at Charlie's shirt and his feet backing them toward the bedroom.   
  
"God, Charlie," Don whispered against his skin. "We - we shouldn't... we can't..." but Charlie's mouth was hot and wet on his skin. It had been far too long since someone had wanted him this much and his body urged him to sink into the sensations and let all thought go. But that wasn't the kind of person he was.   
  
With one last screaming heroic effort, he pushed gently at Charlie's shoulders, breaking the kiss and taking two steps back, but his hands stayed where they were. He just couldn't seem to let go completely. He'd never realized just how beautiful his brother was until he was standing there in the moonlight on the threshold to his bedroom.   
  
"You know this is wrong." Instantly, pain sprang to Charlie's eyes and Don tightened his hold on his shoulders. It wasn't a rejection. Don didn't want to say no but God he _shouldn't_ say yes. "How - how long have you...?" Don gestured helplessly, hoping Charlie would understand.   
  
Charlie couldn't quite keep his bitter laugh from escaping. "Years," he said thickly. "Two days before your first FBI posting." And that had made it so much easier. All he had to do was remember not to answer the phone, let Mom, Dad or the answering machine get it.   
  
And there were the clubs, the anonymous sex with men who reminded him somehow of Don and who didn't care whose name he cried out. And for a while it had been enough. And then Mom got sick and Don was back in his life.   
  
"Years," Don repeated. "Why...?" but he stopped, shaking his head because asking Charlie why he didn't tell him was probably the stupidest thing he could say just then. It's not like Don had ever given him the opportunity. It had been all too easy to "forget" to ask to talk to Charlie when he called or keep himself busy enough that they would never be in the house together on his infrequent visits.   
  
Then he was back for good and everything changed. He'd managed to convince himself that it was Charlie who was being the selfish one all those years that they hadn't talked. He never once would have guessed that all the time Charlie spent in the garage while Mom was sick had anything to do with him. It was just the way he was, the way Don had convinced himself he was.   
  
"I'm sorry," Don whispered. He'd caused his little brother pain for years and knew that he had to make it right. Pulling him close, Don placed small kisses along Charlie's jaw as he backed them across the bedroom threshold.   
  
Charlie closed his eyes and followed Don over the threshold. His eyes stung and he made himself pull back so he could look Don in the eye. "Don--you have to be sure. Because if you're not, and we do--what I think we're going to do--I think--I think maybe it would tear you apart. And it's not worth that, _I'm_ not worth that. So just--be sure. And if you're not, then tell me and I'll walk away." It would be the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he _loved_ Don and he would do it.   
  
Don took a deep breath, trying to get his swirling thoughts under control. Because Charlie was right. He almost always was. There was certainly an undeniable part of him that was extremely interested in what might happen next, and Don silently acknowledged to himself that it had been far too long since he'd indulged in some discreet pleasures. But that didn't change the fact that the person he was about to drag to his bed was _Charlie_. Charlie who looked up to him and who had always needed Don to protect him. To use him like that would be the chief among the many wrongs of this situation.   
  
But dammit, Charlie wanted him. Charlie _needed_ him and that had always been enough. And God, Charlie was so beautiful standing there in the low light, eyes wide with hope and longing, lips still wet from when they had kissed. Don ran his fingers lightly along those lips and into Charlie's hair.   
  
He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. "I'm sure." And when he pulled Charlie into this kiss, it was confident, passionate, and eager.  
  
Charlie gave himself over to the kiss, Don's words, his confidence, causing the last of his barriers to fall. He didn't know if they'd ever have more than this one stolen night, but he wasn't going to think about it--wasn't going to worry about it until later. But he wasn't going to hold anything back, either.   
  
He kissed Don hungrily, fiercely, devouring the mouth against his. He'd wanted this for so damn _long_. He backed Don up until he was nearly at the bed and then forced himself to slow down. This was Don-- _Don!_ \--not some quick fuck. With an effort he made his kisses gentle and tender rather than needy and demanding. Then he pulled back, just a little, enough to caress Don's cheek with his hand. "Have you done this before?"   
  
Don's eyebrows shot to his hairline in surprise, though it was a reasonable question and if Charlie's lips and tongue hadn't just seared all coherent thought from his brain, it was probably one he would have thought of himself. And yet, he still hesitated to answer it. One didn't get to where Don was in the Bureau if it became public knowledge that one fucked other men. He'd kept it carefully hidden from everyone, including his family. But it was ridiculous to keep it from Charlie now, not with the level of intimacy in their relationship about to go up radically. He shrugged. "Yes, a handful of times. Mostly on the, um, the top side."   
  
His brows then headed southward as the next logical question occurred to him. "Wait, have you? Done this before?"   
  
"Yes," he said simply. And it was more than a little disconcerting to think that it was entirely possible he had more experience with this than Don did. There were areas in which he knew he had more experience, situations in which he was naturally the leader, but social situations had never been one of those areas. Don had always been the natural there, the born leader who everyone looked up to, the one who instinctively knew how to get along with other people, the popular one.   
  
Don the Older Brother wanted to interrogate Charlie about that, about exactly who it was he'd been sleeping with, but he battled those questions back down. They could wait. They'd definitely still be there later. It was at least some comfort to his shell-shocked reason that he wouldn't be deflowering his little brother. That, he thought, would have been way too much to take.   
  
"Well," Don said, smiling wryly, "you're just full of surprises tonight." He reached for Charlie once again, running his hands along the soft skin at his waist, just under the hem of his t-shirt. He kissed his way along Charlie's jaw, pausing to lick at the spot just behind his earlobe, which earned him a full-body shudder and a low moan.   
  
"Tell me what you like, Charlie. Tell me what you want," Don murmured against his skin.   
  
"You," Charlie whispered. He kissed Don's lips again, then kissed the corner of his mouth, nibbled at his neck. He nipped at Don's Adam's apple, moaning when his brother found a particularly sensitive spot.   
  
He slipped Don's top two buttons through their buttonholes, kissing and licking the newly exposed skin. "As for what I want, I want you. In me," he said, threading his fingers through Don's belt loops and pulling his brother's body flush against his own.   
  
"Want you to be tender this time, want--God Don, I've wanted you for so long," he whispered roughly.   
  
Charlie's mouth burned on his skin and the underlying tone of need in his voice sent ripples up his spine. Any protests that still remained were seared into submission, leaving just Charlie in front of him and his own need pounding into his brain.   
  
"Charlie," he murmured, running his hands up under Charlie's shirt and stepping back a moment to remove it. He let his fingers wander along his neck and arms as he bent his head to lick and suck at Charlie's collarbone. "God, you're beautiful..."   
  
He gasped and moaned, shivering under the combined assault of Don's hot mouth and callused fingers.   
  
Charlie's clever fingers made short work of the rest of the buttons on Don's shirt and he scowled at the undershirt that kept him from caressing his brother's bare skin. "Too many clothes," he said, stepping back just long enough to tug Don's shirt over his head. But then he was free to taste and lick and suck. Free to start thoroughly mapping each and every one of Don's hot spots making sure to go back more than once to any spot that had seemed to produce an involuntary shudder or groan -- he had to verify his results, after all.   
  
Don smiled to himself as Charlie tested his responses systematically, a consummate mathematician even in love making. A surge of affection for his brother flooded his heart and lodged there, dampening some of the wild fire that sent his blood racing. He slowed himself down, wanting to make this everything that Charlie had ever hoped for and more. Pulling Charlie up by his shoulders, he looked deep into those dark eyes that were so like his and yet so much more expressive and felt his heart leap into his throat.   
  
He threaded one hand into Charlie's hair as the other worked his jeans open slowly. Anticipation practically hummed along every line of Charlie's body, and Don tightened his grip just enough to be sure that Charlie was aware and listening. "Mine," Don whispered. "This, you, everything... this is mine, now." His fingers had managed to work Charlie's jeans open far enough that they slid softly to the floor and he dipped into the folds of his boxers, running his fingers lightly along his length.   
  
Charlie's eyes fell half closed, his fingers tightening on Don's arms and he whimpered as at last Don _finally_ touched him.   
  
It took a few extra seconds for Don's words to penetrate the pleasant haze that had enveloped a mind focused solely on pleasure. With an effort he made himself focus, caught his brother's wrist, squeezing gently until Don looked at him. "No. Still mine," he said solemnly. "But I'll share it with you and _only_ with you, for as long as you want me."   
  
Don nodded, inwardly amazed at exactly how well Charlie knew him. Because tomorrow, in the harsh light of morning he knew this could all look very different. But for now, at least, there was just him and Charlie and nothing else. "Deal," he acknowledged before releasing Charlie and using both hands to strip him of his boxers. Kissing him, he backed him up the last few steps until the backs of his knees struck the bed.   
  
"Lie down," he directed. Charlie reached for him, trying to pull him down, too but he stepped back. If Charlie touched him now, even just to undo his fly, things would be over much too quickly. There was so much he wanted to do with Charlie before he came deep inside him, and Don needed a moment to calm himself. He stripped down the rest of the way and walked over to his dresser, pulling his lube and condoms from their hiding places and putting them in easy reach of the bed.   
  
Charlie watched Don as he undressed wishing it were _his_ hands that were stripping his brother's body bare.   
  
He lazily caressed himself as he watched Don get ready, wondering just how many of Don's buttons he could push before he tipped them both over the edge. He was eager to continue his careful exploration of Don's body, mapping his sensitive areas, memorizing every nick and scar.   
  
Don settled himself next to Charlie on the bed, draping his leg over him and propping himself on one elbow. He ran his hands through the hair on Charlie's chest, grazing his nipples and feeling him arch into the touch. He noted how responsive Charlie was to sensation and next time-- _next time?_ \--he promised himself that he'd get Charlie writhing and begging beneath him. But his own reserves of self-control were not limitless and the need to bury himself inside Charlie spurred him on. Using his hands and mouth, he traced a quick trail down Charlie's body before wrapping his fingers around his cock and sucking the tip of it into his mouth.   
  
Charlie whimpered as _hotwetheat_ caused his brain to temporarily short circuit with pleasure. His hands scrambled for purchase on Don's broad shoulders, fingers digging into skin hard enough to bruise.   
  
He squirmed, trying to get the upper hand so that he could have a chance to fully explore Don's body.   
  
"Relax, Charlie," Don said, lifting his head just long enough to be able to grab the lube. "You'll get everything you want. I promise." His voice was low, practically a purr, giving that promise weight. He generously slicked his fingers before returning to his task, positioning Charlie's legs over his shoulders so he could gain access to his gorgeous ass. Slipping a finger inside, he continued sucking on Charlie's cock, feeling the war going on between the competing sensations. He teased him open, sliding three fingers inside him before he was convinced that Charlie was ready. Working his way back up, Don covered him with his body, straddling his hips with powerful legs. His mouth dropped open around a silent gasp as their cocks slid together wetly. Sliding an arm beneath Charlie, Don pulled him up into a kiss and grabbed the condom just before rolling them to the side, their momentum ensuring that Charlie would end on top.   
  
Charlie moaned and whimpered and arched as his older brother diligently worked to drive all coherent thought from his head. His entire world was narrowed down to the points of contact between his body and Don's. And if this was Don with only a handful of experience...   
  
He loved Don's voice, loved that throaty purr in his ear. God.   
  
And then, just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore Don rolled them, giving Charlie the upper hand. He lay with his hands on either side of his brother's head, chest inches above Don's, panting harshly as he tried to marshal what little control he had left.   
  
Math. Math would give him control. He ran Fibonacci's sequence for a moment until he'd calmed a little, then he grinned wickedly and plucked the condom from Don's fingers.   
  
He made his way down Don's body inch by torturous inch, licking, sucking, nipping, charting and exploring, applying all of his skill and knowledge to find Don's equation for pleasure.   
  
He sucked Don's cock into his mouth, carefully, gently, scraping with his teeth and then using his tongue to sooth. He gave it one last parting kiss and then tore open the condom wrapper and carefully covered Don, then sat back on his heels. "Tell me what you want, Don."   
  
He gave himself over to Charlie, making himself vulnerable in a way he never could have been with anyone else he'd been with. Except... well, he was long out of the picture. Don twisted and squirmed, panted and moaned under Charlie's ministrations, but mostly he just let himself feel. His heart stopped as Charlie sucked the head of his cock into the warm wet envelope of his mouth, his fists twisting in the sheets at the feel of his teeth and tongue as he fought not to come just from that.   
  
Don shivered at the loss of warmth. "God, Charlie... I - I want to feel you around me, want to come buried deep inside you. I need you." And in that moment, he knew it was true. He put all his considerable desire in his eyes, pleading with Charlie silently. Maybe one day he could give up enough control to let Charlie make him beg for his hands, his mouth, his cock... maybe.   
  
Charlie's breath caught. He never thought he'd hear Don say he needed him in a non-work capacity. And maybe -- probably -- he still only meant sex. But maybe he meant something else, something more. Maybe.   
  
He lay down beside his brother, claiming Don's lips with a tender kiss. "All you ever have to do is ask," he said softly.   
  
Don returned the kiss. What else could he do? He was completely lost.   
  
Rolling Charlie again, he braced himself over his brother, trying to imprint this moment on his brain. When the inevitable questions pounded at him later, he wanted to be able to go back and remember the perfection of it all. It might not help, but it was a place to start. Besides, it seemed he was throwing all his rules out the window tonight. He grabbed the lube and slicked his cock quickly, not daring to spend too much time on the task. Positioning himself so he nudged at Charlie's entrance, he said, "I'm asking, Charlie. I need you. Please?"   
  
His voice shook slightly on the last word. It wasn't one he usually allowed himself to use in these kinds of situations, the rules usually worked out well in advance. But this was Charlie, and that alone changed everything.  
  
His eyes fluttered closed for a brief second. There was no going back, not after this.   
  
He opened his eyes and met Don's gaze. He took a moment to study his brother's familiar, beloved face. He wanted to remember everything about this moment in time, whether it was the first in a long history of such moments or the only thing he had to sustain him during long and lonely nights.   
  
Charlie brought his hand up to caress Don's cheek. "Yes."   
  
Don shivered at the gentle touch, turning his head to place a soft kiss to the inside of Charlie's wrist. Bracing himself, he pushed inside slowly, each inch a delicious torture. He dropped his head between his shoulders and moaned. Charlie was so hot and tight around him he knew that he couldn't last.   
  
"Oh, fuck..." Don breathed, thrusting shallowly. "God, _Charlie_..."   
  
Wave after wave of pleasure. He found Don's hand and linked their fingers together, his free hand caressing whatever skin he could reach. He whispered Don's name over and over, his body instinctively working to find the counterpoint to his brother's rhythm. His control was tenuous at best but he wanted this to last as long as possible, their first time, maybe their only time. "Don, _please_!" He didn't know what he was asking for, only that Don was the only one who could give it to him.   
  
Panting, Don shifted, thrusting deeper. He bent his head to taste Charlie's skin wherever his mouth could reach, the litany of his name spilling from his brother's lips making him quiver. Slowly extricating his hand from Charlie's he ran it down his torso before wrapping it around his cock and stroking quickly and firmly. He felt Charlie clench around him and knew they were both so damn _close_. Don thrust deep once, twice more, shuddering as his orgasm hit him like a jolt of electricity.  
  
Don's last thrust hit that magical spot inside his body that made his brain melt. He held on to Don tightly as coiled energy released and he cried out, shuddering.   
  
He floated on the post-orgasmic high as long as he could, knowing that inevitably the doubts would start to creep in.   
  
Charlie's hands dug in to his biceps as he came, and Don knew that he would be bruised in all kinds of places tomorrow. Using the last of his strength, he settled at Charlie's side, discarding the condom in the wastebasket. Wrapping his arms around Charlie, he pulled him close, inhaling the scent of sex and that something that made him uniquely him. He closed his eyes, wrung out, and he hoped that his exhaustion would keep the questions at bay for just a little while longer.   
  
Exhaling, he placed a soft kiss to his brother's neck. "I love you, Charlie. What - whatever happens next, do me a favor and remember that, okay?"   
  
Charlie's eyes widened and he shivered in Don's embrace. "Promise?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Because there was a very real possibility that Don would wake up tomorrow and regret everything, he'd blame himself and maybe he'd blame Charlie or maybe he wouldn't but he'd withdraw and leave Charlie alone again.   
  
Don hugged him tight, pretending not to notice how well their bodies fit together. "I promise."   
  
His eyes drifted shut, despite his efforts to try and keep them open because he knew that nothing could ever be the same between him and Charlie again when the morning came. Whether that was going to be good or very very bad would have to wait. He hoped, for both their sakes, that happiness could somehow be found.


End file.
